


Journey

by orphan_account



Series: Haytham and his Grandson [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: But mostly Haytham and Desmond, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Summary: Haytham didn’t expect a second Chance at life. He certainly didn’t expect to be a guardian for his run away descendent but here they were. Slight Au where Desmond runs away earlier. ONEShOT
Relationships: Haytham Kenway & Desmond Miles
Series: Haytham and his Grandson [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129223
Comments: 3
Kudos: 77





	Journey

Regardless of what he had said, he had many regrets. Haytham Kenway was by no means immune to the feeling. While he wasn’t going to cry over his choices, he would grieve for the family he lost. For Ziio and Connor. For being stupid and naive enough to believe Birch for so long. 

Despite it all he still believed humans benefited better under guidance. Granted he wasn’t as extreme as some in the order. He did not seek the brainwashing of the masses using first civilization machines. If anything, he did not wish to tamper with them. Not after Shay and their work to stop Achilles.

Mind control wouldn’t constitute true peace, but a false monotonous society. All Haytham wanted was direction, purpose and cooperation. 

Which was why this was not acceptable. His eyes beheld the form of a young boy of 13. He was strapped to a bed. An Animus if he remembered correctly.

Haytham, did not know how he came to the 21th century. The year of our lord 2000. 

He did not remember much from the other side, only that he was tasked to rescue Desmond Miles who, at the tender age of 13 ran from home and was snatched by the modern day templars. They were far cry to his order. Abstergo Industries. Who were using the Animus to dig through ancestral memory. So with his orders he set out to extract his...descendent from the monstrosity of the modern templars.

“Dr. Vidic, if you force him I do not think he will walk out of here sane,” said the assistant.

“I don’t care. We need to find out where the pieces are,” Vidic urged, “keep trying,”

Desmond moaned, his limbs twitching.

Haytham waited until both retreated before coming out of the shadows. He quickly unfastened Desmond and hoisted up in his arms. Then he proceeded to accomplish the arduous task of exiting the building. 

The sirens were already ringing and he had to move quickly if he wanted to escape with his Grandson. Such an odd thing to think about. Desmond, his great great...grandson. No matter how far removed, he was still family. And Haytham Kenway was not going to let the boy go.

After mamy hoops, turns, and jumps Haytham exited Abstergo premises with Desmond in his custody. Now he had to find a place to stay.

The assassins were not an option. For, why had the boy run away in the first place? To get away, that much was obvious. They also would never trust him. He had been a Templar grandmaster after all. Likewise, he could never entrust his Grandson, to the modern templars. Neither was he going to work for them this time. Now there was the issue of an inn. Haytham knew they could probably survive in nature.

Even so, eventually Desmond had to live with the rest of civilization. Which Haytham, had to learn as well. Rescue knowledge aside, he had only resurrected with basic knowledge, like the year and geographical information of the time period. Honestly, he had been lucky that the Abstergo facility they had just left wasn’t too difficult to infiltrate. Those guards were mediocre in combat.

Speaking of infiltration, Haytham eyed his outfit. Abstergo security outfit. He’d have to change out of these.

After taking public transportation, which in Haytham’s opinion was both disgusting and awe inspiring, the duo rented a room at the cheapest dump they could find. Or rather Haytham did, Desmond was still out of commission. Italy was hours behind them. People gave them odd glances along the way. To which he responded with a glare.

He settled them in and Locked the door and windows. The place was as small as a closet. Almost 15 square feet with one bathroom and a double bed. There was green goo on some of the corners and the wood looked about to fall apart. Haytham wrinkled his nose and told himself that this was but a temporary stop. At least until they got to Paris. He hoped they could blend in there. They needed a place to hide...

A groan left Desmond’s mouth, lifting Haytham from his musings. He was sprawled over the dingy bed, his eyes fluttered open, his head rotating every which way.

“What….” Confusing gave rise to alarm, “You can’t keep me here!”

Desmond jumped up, he was running to the door but Haytham grabbed his wrist.

“Relax boy,” Haytham said, voice crisp and clear, “I rescued you from Abstergo. There is no need to be frightened,”

Desmond blinked, and seemed to realize that in fact he wasn’t in the white room. In the weird Aninus thing. His shoulders dropped and he exhaled. He looked at Haytham.

“Who are you?” Desmond asked meekly.

“I’m a distant relative of yours,”

“Did my dad send you? Are you sending me back to the farm?”

The Farm? That was the most disgusting name to call an assassin commune. Who in their right mind had the bright idea of naming it that? Even he had to admit that Davenport Homestead was better named. Farm insinuated animals. Haytham didn’t want to think his son’s legacy had declined so much. Honestly standards had really plummeted in the last 200 or so years! Haytham shook his head to stop the rant that was raging inside.

“No you silly boy,” replied the gentleman, letting go of Desmond’s wrist, “you’re coming with me. Honestly, if I left you in a place called the Farm, I wouldn’t forgive myself the shame,”

“Are you an assassin?” Desmond asked, fully turning to face His rescuer.

“Of sorts,” Haytham said, “I’ve assassinated people before. But I do not follow the creed, nor do I consider myself part of the brotherhood,”

“...okay then I guess I stay with you...anything is better than Abstergo or the farm,” Desmond said with a tiny smile.

“I do not doubt it,” Haytham chuckled.

“What’s your name?” 

“You may call me Haytham, Haytham Scott,” 

He figured Jenny wouldn’t mind if he borrowed her last name. She wasn’t here to give him that cold glare of hers. The Kenway name was long dead anyhow. 

“Desmond Miles,”

So began their journey.


End file.
